The Lure of the Pack (15 page)

“Are you looking for revenge Ash?” Jeanette Descard’s
question caught Piper by surprise.

“Why do you ask that, Jeanette?”

“Because Sergeant Piper, I don’t want you digging two
graves.”

Piper smiled and walked towards the door, “if I dig two
graves Doctor Descard, their only occupants will be Otto Von Kurst and Wilhelm
Oratz, that I promise you!”

It was late Monday afternoon. The flames of hate and revenge
were spreading quickly, another ten explosions having ripped apart the very
fabric of decent people’s lives across Holland, Belgium and Germany. Rioting
and random acts of violence were increasing as members of various country’s
parliaments and senior officials from the Muslim and Immigrant populations
across Europe appealed for calm.

But the body count was still rising.

In the aftermath of the New Totenkopf’s wanton destruction,
thousands of innocent people had been killed and thousands more injured. The
attacks by the European Muslim Freedom Fighters were now confirmed as the most
savage series of terrorist atrocities ever witnessed in European history. But
for one man sat in his plush office in central Dusseldorf, the new war
spreading across Europe was the beginning of a dream come true. “Be certain to
pass my congratulations to all our Scharfuhrers, Herr Untersturmfuhrer Kreutz;
the grenadiers have surpassed themselves with their exemplary courage and
commitment to duty. I am delighted with our progress…yes…of course…keep me
informed.” Otto Von Kurst closed the line of communication with his Second
Lieutenant based at Feldtberg Castle and put his ‘scrambled’ mobile phone back
on his desk, the device itself having been recently obtained and activated by a
certain close friend, based…in St Petersburg. Lazily outstretching his arms he
leaned back in his chair. There was a knock at his office door, “yes!”

Helga Zeist nimbly walked in, carrying a tray of coffee and
sandwiches, “we need to discuss the final preparations for Thursday’s
promotional cocktail evening Otto.”

“Of course Helga.” There was a wicked glint in Von Kurst’s
eyes as he watched the shapely figure of his personal secretary walking towards
him. As Helga began pouring the refreshment he gazed out of the window at the
sodden, damp, inner city skyline of Dusseldorf and smiled. I wonder if it’s
raining in St Petersburg, he thought? 

“It was a pleasure to have you aboard again, Mister Oratz.”
Sonia, the VKE Stewardess knew she was lying, but her employers always required
common courtesy, even if they were foul-mouthed and blatantly rude. Wilhelm
Oratz did not reply as he took his briefcase from the overhead luggage
compartment and walked down the portable steps aligning the VKE Learjet’s main
exit. The Sales Director of Von Kurst Electronics had arrived at St
Petersburg’s busy International Airport.

“Mister Oratz,” a uniformed, burly Russian customs official
strode briskly towards him and smiled, then spoke in accented English, “welcome
to St Petersburg sir, if you will follow me please.”

At the same time Sonia cursed under her breath. “Ignorant
bastard”, she whispered.

“I am afraid there are a great many people from the world’s
press milling around the airport sir,” the customs official continued his accented
conversation “so we thought it best to get you through our customs procedures
as quickly as possible.” The man smiled again, but as always there was no smile
from Wilhelm Oratz.

“Good,” he replied.

“Your visit here is most welcome sir! There is a great deal
of excitement in the city regarding your new factory, and the prospects it will
bring to our citizens.” The customs official was trying his utmost to be polite
and courteous to the VIP guest in his midst. But in reality, he was wasting his
time.

“How long will the customs check take?” Oratz enquired, his
voice gruff, unpleasant, “I have a great deal to do and a very important
meeting this evening. I do not want to be delayed.”

“Not long sir, here we are!” The two men walked quickly past
several small private aircraft, turned left and came to a large door as another
official opened it, beckoning them into the airport’s main terminal. Once again
Oratz was bid welcome as an overweight stern looking woman dressed in Russian
customs attire seemingly marched over to him.

“Good afternoon Mister Oratz,” she said in a plain, dull
voice, “your passport please.”

Oratz handed over his travel document, his piercing eyes
looking the woman up and down. What a fat, ugly pig, he thought!  

“We have until 15.00 hours tomorrow afternoon to have your
invitation confirmed. Nick has already sent the relevant details of your…new
position, via a very polite e-mail.” Colonel Mann smiled as he began reviewing
the plan to get Ash Piper into Von Kurst Electronics’ promotional cocktail
evening.

“I never thought I’d be going undercover as a press
reporter,” muttered Piper, “Oliver Drake of the Financial Times! Well, why
not!”

“There will be a huge press and TV contingent at the event
Ash. This promotional evening for VKE’s new range of microchip technology is
really drawing the crowds,” said Nick, “and all being well, your application
should be accepted!”

“Well, I have complete faith in you my friend. Who did you
send the application to?”

“Von Kurst’s secretary, Ms Helga Zeist. She seems to be
handling everything.”

“Fine, and my background credentials?”

Nick had his usual mischievous smile sat smugly on his face,
“you know me Ash, I’ve played around with certain, how shall I say, important
elements of this particular newspaper’s facts and figures. You’ve been employed
with the FT for just over one year and hope to gain a personal interview with
Mister Von Kurst himself.”

“Along with every other reporter at the event,” the gentle
female voice made Piper turn around as Jeanette Descard walked into the
Colonel’s office and sat down.

“MI5 in London are also helping us with this assignment,”
Colonel Mann continued as Piper listened attentively, “they have placed a
contact in the Financial Times’ offices who will officially confirm your
position, if it is requested of course.”

“Good, so all we do now is wait for the confirmation?” asked
Piper.

“That’s if you’re lucky enough to get one?” Jeanette
Descard’s voice had a troubled tone about it.

Piper turned to her, a look of determination set firmly on
his face. “Oh, I’ll receive an invitation to this promotional evening, of that
I’m certain.”

“Tell me Ash, why are you so hell bent on meeting Von Kurst
face to face? This just seems like madness to me.”

“Von Kurst knows I’m coming Jeanette, I can sense his
feelings, we are destined to meet. This man holds the keys to my past and my
future.”

“But you said before, in no uncertain terms, that you must
kill him. If he knows you’re coming then you’re walking straight into a trap!”

“Quite possibly,” Piper’s voice suddenly became a whisper,
“it’s so strange…I just feel drawn to Von Kurst, like he’s calling me, goading
me to a confrontation.”

“Sergeant Piper knows the risk he is taking Doctor and we’ll
have back up right behind him. As you well know, CEATA Followers are monitoring
Von Kurst’s every movement. They will all be ready to assist when the time
comes, if, they are required.”

“Very well Colonel,” Jeanette looked openly worried and
tense, “but I have a very bad feeling about this!”

“MISTER ORATZ, PLEASE, JUST A FEW WORDS, PLEASE.” There were
camera flashes everywhere, voices too, many of them, men and women, all
reporters, all begging for the first interview with the millionaire businessman
bringing new, exciting opportunities to St Petersburg.

“WE WILL BE GRATEFUL FOR AN INTERVIEW MISTER ORATZ, IF YOU
PLEASE, WE ARE FROM TASS!”

“MISTER ORATZ, CBS NEWS, WE’VE TRAVELLED A LONG WAY, ANY
CHANCE OF A FEW WORDS!”

“FROM TOMMOROW, INTERVIEWS BEGIN TOMORROW!” Nikolai Yosko,
the black moustached, leather jacketed, well-built man standing next to Wilhelm
Oratz was well prepared to move his guest quickly through the mass of people
milling around them. “Take no notice of them Mister Oratz, keep close to me,
the car is just outside.”

It was raining and chilly. With a sigh and a shiver, Oratz
pulled up the collar of his thick black greatcoat as he walked quickly towards
the dark blue Jaguar XJS.

Smiling, Nikolai opened the boot and put Oratz’s two large
suitcases inside. “Sorry about that Mister Oratz, Mister Menkov wanted you away
as quickly as possible. As of tomorrow, there will be plenty of time for
interviews.”

Oratz nodded his head.

“Did you have a pleasant flight?”

“Yes!”

“Good, you will enjoy your stay at the Grand Hotel Europe,
it is St Petersburg’s very finest hotel. Mister Menkov chose it especially.”

“Fine!”

“You will like St Petersburg Mister Oratz, everyone likes St
Petersburg.”

“Fine!”

“The people here are very friendly.”

“Good!”

“Do you like the car, it’s beautiful isn’t it! Mister Menkov
imported it from England last year. Only the best, hey?”

“Of course!”

As Oratz gave another brief, uncomplimentary reply, Yosko
slowly scanned the area, as if he was looking for something, or someone. Yes,
there they are he thought, as always! He smirked to himself openly as he
courteously opened Oratz’s door. Within seconds they both sat in the dazzling
car’s luxurious interior and adjusted their seat belts. Putting the Jaguar into
gear, Yosko slowly manoeuvred onto the main roadway leading from the busy airport
and started the journey into the heart of what is quite possibly Russia’s most
beautiful city. “Mister Oratz, I must inform you, we are being followed.” Still
the smile lay etched on Yosko’s face, as if he didn’t care.

“I thought we might be!” Wilhelm Oratz showed no emotion as
he gazed at the traffic in front of him.

“The FSB are fucking idiots! They watch Mister Menkov all
the time, ha, how they waste their time, and ours!” Oratz sat stern faced, his
black moustached chauffer continuing to exchange pleasantries, or at
least…trying to. “So, this is an exciting trip for you, the start of a new
business venture between Von Kurst Electronics and Menkov and Co. I have seen
the site for the new factory. It will be very impressive when it is built.” Again,
there was no reply, the Jaguar smoothly moving on with Nikolai concentrating
carefully on his driving. He tried again to be polite, this time with a
thought-provoking question, “these terrorist atrocities across Europe are
causing a great deal of violence in many countries aren’t they? It is
interesting from our point of view, what do you think Mister Oratz?” There was
still no response, just the usual stern faced look. Nikolai soon gave up his
polite small talk, keeping silent for the rest of the journey. This Wilhelm
Oratz is not an easy man to talk to he thought, but who gives a fuck, so long
as I get him to the hotel on time.

Lying on the delta of the River Neva, with a population of
approximately 5.5 million, the city of St Petersburg is well known across the
world as The Venice of the North. Formerly named Petrograd then Leningrad, the
city has undergone tremendous change since the dark days of World War Two, when
occupying Nazi forces laid siege to the city and its inhabitants for nearly
nine hundred days. During this terrible time the city lost approximately eight
hundred thousand of its population, mostly through starvation and disease.

Nowadays, the Venice of the North is a vibrant, bright city
with tourists constantly flocking in to view some of the world’s most
breathtaking, finest architecture, some dating back to the time of Peter the
Great. And in the heart of it all, sits Russia’s most famous street. Nevsky
Prospekt is always popular with both the city’s inhabitants and tourists alike.
It is also the central location for the Grand Hotel Europe.

“Ah, Nevsky Prospekt, we are nearly at the Hotel, Mister
Oratz,”

“Fine!”

Nikolai Yosko seemed genuinely pleased to be nearing the end
of his journey, “are you planning time for any shopping while you are here
Mister Oratz?” A boyish grin sat impishly on the rugged Russian’s face, “if you
are, the shops on this street will sell anything you require, believe me!”

“No, I will be far too busy!”

“Oh…okay, well…we’re here!” Thank fuck for that, thought
Nikolai as he pulled the Jaguar up close to the main doors of the Grand Hotel
Europe’s lavish reception area. “I will bring your cases in Mister Oratz, just
make your way to the reception, you are expected.” Oratz opened the door of the
Jaguar and without a word of thanks to his driver, slowly got out. As the Sales
Director of Von Kurst Electronics walked briskly into the main reception,
Nikolai removed his two suitcases, placed them on the pavement and closed the
Jaguar’s boot. He didn’t bother to lock the XJS; there was no need. As he
gripped the handles of the cases again, he glanced around him. With a slight
nod of his head, Nikolai acknowledged his comrades sitting in the two Mercedes
across from the hotel. The men, two in each car, were from a certain faction of
the city’s Mafia. They were bodyguards, both for the visiting German
businessman and also for their employer, who would be arriving later.

“It is truly a pleasure and may I say an honour to have you
staying with us, Mister Oratz.” The radiant warm smile was probably meant
thought Oratz as he looked at the name on the Duty Manager’s badge. Ms Irina
Yentl opened the Grand Hotel Europe’s thickly bound guest book and politely
asked for various details to be written down. Oratz obliged. “We do not require
any deposit Mister Oratz, Mister Menkov has seen to all payments. Now…” the
smiling, seemingly happy woman turned around and fumbled through various notes
and letters lying in small open boxes to the side of her, “ah yes, here it is!”
With another smile Ms Yentl passed over a sealed envelope, which Oratz quickly
took from her, “this arrived half an hour ago for you.”